


A Holy Dragon

by skysedge



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angstin', Auri WoL, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Vague end of Heavensward 3.0 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysedge/pseuds/skysedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wounds in his heart, still fresh, felt like they were festering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Holy Dragon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hellsnextboss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellsnextboss/gifts).



> Written with Hellsnextboss' character in mind, so no vague WoL here I'm afraid.

Drinking was not a past-time that Aymeric wanted to turn into a habit. He had managed to keep away from it most of his later life, finding solace in his friends and comrades. But he had lost many of them in recent months. Two in particular. The wounds in his heart, still fresh, felt like they were festering. What better to cleanse the injury than alcohol?

Estinien wouldn't have approved. Aymeric could picture him now, frowning beneath that helm of his and scolding him for being so weak. He would have told Aymeric to be grateful he was alive and able to fight another day, to keep pressing forwards. Leaning heavily on his desk, watching as some spilt ale spread across some forgotten paperwork, Aymeric felt close to falling instead.

Haurchefant would have approved of the drinking had it been in celebration of their lives, or of the strategic triumphs. Or even just to relax, Aymeric remembered, looking back fondly on his youth. But even his exuberant friend would not have approved of this, of drinking alone by candlelight and letting the hours slide past.

It was pitiful. He knew that. He had to be strong, and just, and respectable. It was just to hard to show a brave face when he felt as if every foundation he could rely on was crumbling. His friends, his father, his city, their history. Everything was coming apart. 

Leaning back in his chair, he raised both hands to run through his raven hair, pushing it out of his eyes. The room was dim, all dark wood and stone, the candlelight guttering. He stared at the flame with an expression of apathy. If it were to blow out, he felt as if he may never see light again. What was there now, that could lead him back from darkness? He hadn't been able to protect them. What good was he, after all?

A light knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts and he sat forward too suddenly, losing his balance. He brought his hand down onto the desk to steady himself, eyes widening as the room was filled with the crunching of glass. He looked down to see blood spilling from beneath his palm and the light glistening from sharp edges. 

The door was flung open and someone entered in a hurry. Aymeric was unable to look up as the pain hit him, sending sparks of delicate agony through his hand and arm. He closed his eyes with a grimace and felt a warmth beside him, a gentle but firm hand on his wrist. 

“Stay still.”

A soft voice, and one he knew. He opened his eyes only to be blinded by a warm glow surrounding his injured hand. It faded to leave purple smudges across his vision, through which he could see that his hand was now healed. He flexed his fingers almost in wonder before finally turning to the woman beside him. 

She was watching him with quiet concern, her blonde hair falling across her delicate features and her white eyes wide with alertness. The Warrior of Light, crouching beside a drunken lord as if in supplication. Aymeric felt his cheeks colour with hot shame.

“I swear it was an accident,” he said softly, voice husky with lack of use. 

The corners of her lips turned down and one of her eyebrows raised, expressing her disbelief in perfect silence. It was a stern look, one that was unmistakeable, and he found himself giving a small smile in response. It was a look he had seen often, usually turned towards others, and one of the many reasons he had grown fond of her. Mostly silent, frighteningly powerful, but noisome through her expressions almost to a fault. A sign of humanity he had been able to recognise in a woman paraded as a legend.

Not that he could blame anyone that treated her thus, he thought, as he raised his now healed hand to brush some of her hair away from where it had become tangled in one of her pale horns. She was different, an Auri walking fearlessly in the open and seeming not to realise or to care if people looked at her strangely. She had porcelain skin and dressed elegantly, moving with matching grace even when wielding her staff. He had been drawn to her from the start, seeing in her a quality that others lacked but not one he could name.

Now, reaching across him to brush shards of glass away from his arms and onto the floor, her brow knit with concentration, she seemed to glow in the candlelight. Ethereal, almost. A holy dragon, almost sitting in the commander's lap. He gave a small laugh at the thought. But why shouldn't she be holy? When all else was dark and cruel, she shone as brightly as ever. Goodness and righteousness could overcome all, perhaps. She was like a beacon in that moment, as his friends had been before.

If only people could understand. If only he could make them understand. If only he could atone for his failures.

A soft noise broke the silence and it took him a moment to realise it had been her clearing her throat. She was watching him again, lips slightly parted, a sign that she was considering breaking her famed silence to speak. He shook his head and raised a finger to her lips.

“I'm all right,” he assured her. “Just a little... indisposed.”

She nodded in understanding before tilting her head to the side in question. He wondered just what the question would be if she voiced it. Would he like her to stay? Did he need her to help him? Was he so very unhappy after all? Every answer would be a yes. He settled for nodding, ready to agree to anything she could ask, and was surprised as she reached up and looped her arms around his neck. 

“You...”

She was small in comparison to him but climbed deftly into his lap, pressing her face into his neck and running her hands over his shoulders in soothing circles. Shocked, he raised his hands to her back with trembling slowness. Only as he felt her shaking did he understand.

“You lost them too, didn't you?” he asked quietly, pulling her closer. 

She didn't need to answer. Her silence, as always, spoke volumes. The minutes slipped by as the hours had before but he felt the fog in his mind lifting as he held her, feeling her heartbeat against his chest. Perhaps there was a reason left to be strong, to find the brave face he was used to wearing. If she could manage it, so could he. 

“You're not going to lose me,” he said after what could have been minutes or hours. “And in return you could...”

He didn't find the words to finish his suggestion. Stay, perhaps. For tonight, for longer. Understanding, she sat back to look him in the eye, smiling now, and give him a decisive nod. He had been leaning forwards, closing his eyes when she placed a finger to his lips and shook her head.

“Mm?”

She pointed to the remains of the glass on the floor, her stern expression back in place. 

“Ah.”

Aymeric laughed, realising what a fool he had been. Things broke, and sometimes they couldn't be fixed. The world carried on. And so could he, if he tried.

“It really was an accident,” he protested. 

Her stern face remained to keep him in line long after he had cleaned the shards from the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Also inspired by the Tumblr prompt 'I swear it was an accident'. Thanks to Sorin for forwarding the list!


End file.
